


Douze Points

by EggMuffin



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Crack, Eggsy represents the UK, Fluff, Harry represents Italy, It is the eurovision au no one asked for, M/M, Rated teen and up for use of language otherwise safe, eurovision au, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5920432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggMuffin/pseuds/EggMuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart loves Eurovision. He’s always loved it, especially during the last two decades, because it’s campy, it’s fun and it’s utter trash. It’s not even a guilty pleasure, he just unabasedly loves it. The higher the notes and the flashier the show, the more he loves it. He doesn’t love it like he loves a good wine or a well-composed song; he loves it like a over-the-top sixties spy flick.</p>
<p>Thing is, no matter how much Harry loves the show of glitter and disappointment, he’d rather stay in the audience; there’s nothing in the contest that draws him as a performer.</p>
<p>Yet here he is, 55, almost as old as the contest itself, sitting in the green room at Sanremo, wondering if his career is really in a slump deep enough that only Eurovision could pull him out of it. <br/>**<br/>The ultimate Eurovision AU - Italy is represented by an englishman and the UK doesn't come last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Douze Points

**Author's Note:**

> The Eurovision AU no one asked for.  
> Harry represents Italy because Colin speaks Italian. Eggsy represents the UK.   
> I used the 2015 contest as my basis, but used my artistic licence to switch things up where needed. I've never understood how the UK entry is chosen, so I didn't really focus on that. In Italy, apparently, whoever wins the Sanremo Music Festival, gets the right to represent Italy at the ESC.   
> Harry sings ''Grande Amore'', the Il Volo song from ESC 2015, because I'm trash. Eggsy sings ''She Said'' by Plan B, because I'm trash and Taron Egerton mentioned listening to Plan B to prepare for the role of Eggsy. Also, describing music is hard.   
> If you don't know what Douze Points refers to, then you haven't seen Eurovision, and this fic is probably going to confuse you.   
> Tumblr: eggmuffinwrites

Harry Hart loves Eurovision. He’s always loved it, especially during the last two decades, because it’s campy, it’s fun and it’s utter trash. It’s not even a guilty pleasure, he just unabasedly loves it. The higher the notes and the flashier the show, the more he loves it. He doesn’t love it like he loves a good wine or a well-composed song; he loves it like a over-the-top sixties spy flick.

While Harry loves it just the way it is, campy and trashy and fun, each year there’s a song or two that he really enjoys and listens to unironically.

Thing is, no matter how much Harry loves the show of glitter and disappointment, he’d rather stay in the audience; there’s nothing in the contest that draws him as a performer.

Yet here he is, 55, almost as old as the contest itself, sitting in the green room at Sanremo, wondering if his career is really in a slump deep enough that only Eurovision could pull him out of it. Ten years ago, he would’ve laughed in Merlin’s face. But in 2015, he’s not relevant enough to pull crowds any other way than making a fool of himself in front of all of Europe (and Australia).

He’s been in the business for decades. He started out in the mid-80s, doing the synth-pop thing everyone and their mother did in the eighties. A few Brit awards and three albums later, he was promptly forgotten as 90s and various flavours of grunge took over. He kept a steady following by writing ballads and doing simple gigs with his guitar, but by 1996, ballads and guitars weren’t good enough. He decided quit with dignity and moved to Italy, because why the fuck not. It was there where he met Merlin, discovered _bel canto_ , discovered that he could sing _bel canto_ , found out that operatic pop sold better and reinvented himself as an artist. Since 2000, _Time to Say Goodbye_ , _You Lift Me Up_ and _Nel Blu, Dipinto Di Blu_ had been inseparable parts of his repertoire. Again, several albums and a fucking Grammy later, interest in him had started to wane around 2010, and he’d spent the last few years in relative obscurity, but content.

But Merlin had talked him into doing Sanremo. And of course, being Italy’s sweetheart, the stuffy englishman who learned the language and embraced the culture, he was one of the ‘’Big Artists’’. One of his songs had been used on a film’s soundtrack last year and so people remembered him again; the chances of him being sent to Eurovision weren’t massive, but definitely higher than Harry would have liked.

He takes a deep breath, and prepares to go on stage. It’s the last night of Sanremo and he’s praying to any deity that will listen that one of the young ones wins instead of him. With one last sigh he puts on the most dazzling smile he can muster and takes the stage.

He wins the fucking competition. He’s going to Euro-fucking-vision.

**

The winner of Sanremo picks their own song for the big contest. Harry is determined to pick something that he doesn’t actually like, because he doesn’t want to ruin a good song for himself. Yet he doesn’t want to pick something he hates, because he’ll be singing nothing but this for the next few months.

Harry and Merlin, who’s become his one-man managing team, go through tens of songs. They’re sitting on Harry’s living room floor, a bottle of wine open on the table, and sheets of music and lyrics loosely arranged into four piles: ‘’ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT’’, ‘’no’’, ‘’maybe’’ and ‘’tentative yes, but only because we’re drunk’’. The first pile is the largest, the second has a handful on sheets and the last two have one song each. They still have a lot of songs to go through, because everyone and their mother seems to have sent Harry their creation. Most of it is decent, but not Eurovision material, but some of it is downright horrible and Harry considers writing them back to tell them to never try songwriting again (he’d really be doing them a favour).

‘’Can we just continue tomorrow?’’ Harry asks tiredly and takes a sip of his wine.

Merlin hums noncommittally, before making a surprised sound. ‘’Look at this,’’ he says and hands Harry another music sheet. Harry goes over it, imagining the melody and hums thoughtfully. The song is not bad, it’s decent, saccharine sweet lyrics set to a sweeping melody and Harry can already hear strings. It’s called _Grande Amore_ and the love isn’t only thing grand about this song. It’s one of those textbook operatic pop pieces that’s slightly forgettable and easily confused with other such songs. ‘’Yes,’’ says Harry. ‘’I think this is it.’’

‘’Really?’’

‘’Really.’’

**

Harry doesn’t keep an eye on the national selections of every country in Europe, but he does await UK’s choice with interest. This year there’s more media buzz around the selection, as he’s representing Italy, even though he’s English. So when the UK act is announced, Harry is eager to know who it is. Merlin e-mails him a link as soon as the song’s announced and released and the first thing Harry thinks after seeing the picture of the artist is, _novelty act_.

It must be. The young man on the picture looks like a caricature of a chav – cap, garish jacket, trainers. And his name is Eggsy Unwin. _Eggsy_. It must be a novelty act, kind of like that awful Daz Sampson song back in 2006. The song’s called _She Said_ and Harry really has no idea what to expect. He clicks on the Spotify link and braces himself.

Instead of some overproduced hiphop monstrosity, the song has a definite soul, R’n’B sound to it and Harry is pleasantly surprised that this Eggsy has a really good voice. The second verse is rap, but it fits into the song seamlessly. Eggsy ends on a high note and Harry is left looking at his laptop suspiciously. The song is higher quality than usual and actually good, what’s more, the UK is not sending a novelty act.  Instead they’re sending a surprisingly good song and a surprisingly good singer.

Harry googles Eggsy and finds some YouTube covers by the lad. He has a lovely voice that would be much lovelier with some training and good studio equipment, but all in all, he’s definitely star material, Harry thinks, kind of like Ed Sheeran.

There is not much else to be found, no previous discography, no interviews (yet), no Wikipedia page. He does have an Instagram, so Harry learns that Eggsy seems to live in London and is very happy about going to Eurovision.

**

Before Harry knows it, it’s May and he’s sent to Vienna three days before the first semi-final. Italy obviously goes straight to final, but Harry is busy as it is. Turns out that he is one of the more popular singers this year, along with Sweden’s Mans, Belgium’s Loic and, of course, Eggsy, who is charming audiences and interviewers left and right. Harry hasn’t met him yet, but several interviewers have asked about his thoughts on the young man.

Harry doesn’t really know what to make of Eggsy. He’s a good singer, charming and really very handsome. Harry has been keeping a eye on Eggsy’s social media and honestly – Eggsy’s habit of posting half-naked gym pictures on Instagram is very distracting. Merlin, of course, caught on, and has taken to notifying Harry when Eggsy posts something, because he’s a bastard like that.

So he tells the media that Eggsy is a very promising artist and that he is looking forward to meeting his countryman. What else could he tell them? That he’d like to lick the sweat off of Eggsy’s very well defined abs?

‘’Get yourself together, Hart,’’ he tells himself. He’s too old for crushes. And Eggsy’s new Wikipedia page informs him that Eggsy was born in 1989, which makes him 29 years younger than Harry. Harry’s first two albums are older than Eggsy.

**

Harry has been at the Spanish delegation’s party for a whopping 20 minutes and he’s bored out of his mind. Most people there are much younger than him, and none of the people his age speak English. Merlin is in a meeting for heads of delegations and Harry is considering leaving, when someone appears at his side.

‘’I heard you wanted to see me,’’ says an unfamiliar voice. Harry doesn’t recall wanting to see anyone, but he turns to find Eggsy standing next to him.

The Instagram pictures didn’t prepare him for this. Up close, Eggsy is shorter than him, with fair skin and jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He is really very handsome and it’s very much unfair in Harry’s opinion. How can one person be this beautiful?

Once he gets over his initial shock because Eggsy is apparently a direct descendant of Adonis, he extends his hand for Eggsy to take. ‘’Hello,’’ he says. ‘’Harry Hart.’’

‘’Eggsy Unwin,’’ Eggsy replies with a grin. Indeed, he seems constantly smiling, infectiously happy, like a ray of goddamn sunshine. ‘’My mum has all your records from the 90s.’’

Harry chuckles. ‘’Well, then you’ve at least heard of me.’’

Eggsy raises his eyebrows comically high. ‘’Heard of you? Of course I have! You’re my favourite.’’

It’s Harry’s turn to raise his brows. He’s not really sure if Eggsy’s joking or not. He finds himself hoping that he isn’t. Eggsy leans in and lowers his voice to a stage whisper. ‘’Don’t tell Josh Groban, but I think your version of _You Lift Me Up_ is the best,’’ he tells Harry conspiratorially.

Harry smiles and nods, as if agreeing to keep a secret. ‘’I always did think that he’s just an upstart.’’

Eggsy laughs. ‘’Scoundrel. Just ‘cuz us mere mortals don’t have your tenor, don’t mean you have to be so mean.’’

‘’Baritone, actually. Sometimes I get lucky and hit a note usually reserved for tenors,’’ Harry corrects him. ‘’And your voice is lovely, Eggsy. Could do with some training, but lovely.’’

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he cringes. _Could do with some training? What a great compliment, Hart._

Nevertheless, Eggsy seems delighted. ‘’Really?’’

‘’Of course. The song is very good, too, and it helps you to show off your vocal abilities. The rapping is an interesting twist.’’

Eggsy grins but this time his smile has a hint of shyness. ‘’Yeah, well… Not quite as grand as yours, though.’’

‘’Oh, please, Eggsy. For all intents and purposes, I’m supposed to be Italian. I have to have a grand song.’’

‘’It’s very good, though.’’

Harry feels like blushing. ‘’I’m glad you like it.’’

They share a smile, but then Eggsy is whisked away by his manager and it’s ‘’Time to say goodbye, eh, Harry?’’. Harry has a feeling that maybe this Eurovision business won’t be so bad at all.

**

Except it is. The rehearsals are horrible, the press conferences are tedious and he hasn’t seen Eggsy since the Spanish party. It’s Wednesday already and the whole thing will be over soon, and he should be happy about that, but somehow, he doesn’t want the week to end, at least not before he gets the chance to spend more time with Eggsy.

Someone must be listening to his prayers, because he’s sitting in his hotel room doing nothing, when there’s frantic knocking on his door. He opens it to reveal a flushed looking Eggsy.

‘’Harry! Let me in!’’ he gasps and Harry steps aside dutifully before he can even think about it. Eggsy is in his room like a flash and he barely has time to close the door behind him when there’s another knock. He glances at Eggsy who mouths, ‘’I’m not here!’’ at him, his eyes big and pleading, and tucks into Harry’s bathroom.

Harry opens the door again to reveal a young woman who he recognises as Eggsy’s manager.

‘’Terribly sorry to disturb you, but you wouldn’t happen to have seen Eggsy Unwin?’’ she asks.

‘’Eggsy? No, I’m afraid I haven’t,’’ says Harry. ‘’Is he in trouble?’’

The woman looks at him with a calculating gaze, as if she knows that he is lying, but Harry refuses to flinch. ‘’No, he’s just been sneaking out again. Well, if you see him, tell him to call Roxy. Good day, Mr. Hart,’’ she says and turns on her heel. Harry closes the door and breathes for a second.

‘’You can come out now.’’

Eggsy opens the door slowly, as if making sure the air is clear, before stepping out. He looks sheepish and Harry finds in painfully adorable. ‘’Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that. But I am glad that I was your room I ended up in.’’

‘’Your manager is terrifying.’’

‘’Yeah, she is. Bigger men than you have crumpled before her.’’

‘’May I ask what’s wrong?’’ Harry inquires.

Eggsy sighs heavily. ‘’Everything. I hate every part of this goddamn stupid contest. The stage people are rude, the interviewers are pushy, the schedules are shit and I am so fucking tired. I’m knackered.’’

Harry can sympathise. His schedule is weirdly empty today, he has an interview scheduled for later, but that’s it. But the previous days have been packed full with meetings, rehearsals and other responsibilities and the coming days aren’t going to be much better.

‘’It’ll be all over soon,’’ he says comfortingly.

Eggsy makes a grumbling sound and sits down on Harry’s bed with a heavy sigh. ‘’It better. I thought this would be fun, y’know? I’ve been watching the contest ever since I could remember and it looks so stupid, but _fun_ , d’ya know what I mean?’’

Harry knows exactly what he means.

‘’Do you know what it says in the contract? That I have to be in a good mood until the end of the contest. I can’t show a single sign of exhaustion. And I’m a happy person, I try to look on the bright side, but I think I’m going to have to smear vaseline on my teeth to keep smiling until Saturday,’’ Eggsy says, looking tired. Harry is having a hard time reconciling this Eggsy with the grinning young man he met at the party. ‘’I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I really thought this would be easier, y’know?’’

‘’It’s alright, Eggsy. Eurovision is a scary thing. I hate all the commotion and attention and I’ve been in the business for decades,’’ Harry says. ‘’I’m tired, too. If I have to give another interview, I think I’m going to kill someone.’’ He pauses. ‘’For what it’s worth, I think you’re taking all this admirably well, Eggsy. I was lucky to start out in the 80s, it was a much more peaceful time. Now, with all the social media and internet, you have it much worse.’’

Eggsy looks him in the eye, with a wry smile. ‘’You think so?’’

‘’Of course. I would’ve bolted by now. I just hope that it doesn’t scare you away from the business altogether, because I’d really like you to succeed. You’re very talented.’’

Harry’s heart leaps as Eggsy’s smile grows wider and a faint blush colours his cheeks. ‘’Stop it, you.’’

‘’You are, Eggsy.’’

Eggsy blushes deeper, but seems to relax. ‘’You wanna go out for a walk? Explore the city?’’ he asks.

‘’I’ve been to Vienna before.’’

‘’Of course you have. Then you can show me around. Unless you have something better to do?’’

Harry can’t think of anything better than spending time with Eggsy in Vienna right now. He’s still got a good few hours until his interview and Eggsy seems so excited, he couldn’t deny him even if he tried. ‘’I’d love to,’’ he says and Eggsy lights up. He’d promise Eggsy anything, if this is the reaction he’d get; Eggsy’s unabashed excitement is infectious and endearing.

Harry makes Eggsy call his manager to let her know where he is and then shoots a quick text to Merlin, receiving a a reply that reads, ‘’Use protection and don’t get caught!’’.

**

Harry is sure that he is in love, because suddenly, the lyrics of his song make sense, kind of. Obviously, in the song, he’s adressing a lady instead of a man, but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Eggsy ever since their walk on Wednesday.

Eggsy is witty and funny and charming, eager to learn and improve himself every opportunity he gets. He’d absorbed every piece of advice Harry could give and listened to his stories attentively. In addition to being a great listener, Eggsy turned out to be a lively storyteller, and the conversation flowed freely between them.

Harry really is smitten and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s Friday and Harry is getting ready for the dress rehearsal. He’s the seventh performer and the UK is 13th, a fact that Eggsy had grumbled about. ‘’I’m not superstitious, but that just spells bad luck.’’

The third act – Sweden – is on stage, and the atmosphere in the green room is tense, but nothing compared to what it will be like tomorrow evening. Harry hasn’t seen Eggsy yet, because their tables are far apart, but he did receive a text from him, wishing him good luck.

Before he knows it, it’s his turn and he makes his way to the stage. A stage hand rushes in to hand him is microphone and then it’s time. He’s gone through the song a million times, knows it by heart. He doesn’t really have a show, it’s just him and three backing singers with some graphics or other playing on the large screen behind him. He knows the camera movements, knows when to perform to the camera and when to perform to the audience. The whole thing only lasts for three minutes and soon Harry’s belting out the last note. He gives a little bow, but doesn’t lower himself to actually thanking the audience or Europe or anyone, and waits for the lights to dim so that he can leave the stage.

Back in the green room, he sees Eggsy waving at him and giving him a thumbs up, he responds with a smile and gets back to his seat. It’s a small mercy that the performance has such a short time limit and he’s glad that he gets to be done with it so early. He feels sorry for the last five countries, because they have to sit and wait for their performances for hours.

He sits back and eagerly waits for Eggsy’s performance. He’s got a general idea what to expect, having seen previous rehearsals, but when it’s time for the UK to get ready, he is taken aback by Eggsy. When the lad had waved to him earlier, he hadn’t seen Eggsy’s costume. Now that Eggsy stands up to make his way to the stage corridor, Harry’s mouth nearly drops open at the sight of Eggsy in a very closely tailored suit. It must be bespoke, because it clings to Eggsy’s form, accentuating his slim waist and wide shoulders. Eggsy disappears from his sight and Harry tries to analyse what he just saw. He’s so used to seeing Eggsy in jeans that the idea that Eggsy might wear a suit sounds ridiculous. Yet there he was, looking like he was born to wear one.

Eggsy appears on the screen and the performance begins. They don’t have a big show either, but Eggsy is energetic on stage, owning it completely. When the song is over, Eggsy grins and gives an exaggerated bow. The green room claps and Harry claps with them, still not over Eggsy in a suit. When he reappears in the green room, he seeks out Harry’s gaze and grins, Harry smiles back and mouths, ‘’Looking good, Eggsy!’’. Whether he means the performance or Eggsy himself, he doesn’t know.

**

Harry’s fiddling with his cufflinks. It’s an hour until the final and he’s nervous and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t care much about winning and he certainly doesn’t have stage fright.

Actually, he knows exactly why he’s nervous and it’s got nothing to do with the contest. He’s got a plan to ask Eggsy to visit him in Italy or to ask for his permission to visit him in London. He doesn’t really expect anything romantic, but Eggsy is pleasant company, and he doesn’t want to let him go just like that.

He’s been hiding out in the men’s toilet for ten minutes and he’ll have to go to the green room soon, but he’d rather kill some more time here. Different performers have been coming and going, everyone too occupied with their own thoughts to pay him any attention and he’s grateful for that.

The door opens again and Harry doesn’t pay it any attention, he’s too busy staring at himself in the mirror and wondering where his life went so wrong.

‘’Oh, hi, Harry,’’ says the newcomer and Harry turns to see Eggsy. He looks stunning in his dark grey suit and Harry feels his mouth go dry. ‘’Eggsy.’’

There’s a faint tremor in Eggsy’s hand. ‘’Nervous?’’ Harry asks, trying to think of something to say to calm Eggsy down.

‘’Yeah, you’ve no idea.’’

Harry thinks he has a pretty good idea of what Eggsy’s feeling right now, even if it’s for a different reason. Before he can really think about it, he reaches out and takes Eggsy’s hand in his own. ‘’It’ll be fine. Do what you did yesterday and you’ll be fine.’’

Eggsy looks at their hands and Harry curses inwardly. _What the actual fuck were you thinking?_ He begins to draw his hand back, but Eggsy tightens his hold, steps closer and reaches up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. ‘’For good luck, yeah,’’ says Eggsy quietly.

‘’For good luck,’’ Harry repeats and smiles, still confused. _Did that just happen or has he lost his mind?_

Eggsy grins at him and squeezes his hand one more time. ‘’See you later, Harry,’’ he says and leaves Harry alone again. ‘’See you, _bello_ ,’’ he whispers. Well, if that isn’t cause for optimism.

Harry makes his way to the green room with a spring in his step. Eggsy spots him across the room and winks at him.

‘’What’s got you so cheery?’’ Merlin asks suspiciously when he takes a seat in the Italian table.

‘’Nothing.’’

Merlin looks at him. ‘’What happened, Harry? And does it have something to do with the UK’s very handsome singer?’’

Harry refuses to dignify that with an answer.

**

In the end, Italy comes in third and the UK comes in fifth. Sweden wins and Russia is second, but Harry doesn’t particularly care. He’s just glad that it’s over now and he can go back to the relative normalcy of his day to day life.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Eggsy until at the after party many hours later. It’s nearly four in the morning when Eggsy appears at his side, just like at the Spanish party a week earlier. He’s lost his jacket and his shirt sleeves are rolled up, but he is as handsome as ever.

‘’Hey,’’ he says.

‘’Hello, Eggsy. How are you?’’

‘’Fucking knackered. But glad that it’s all over.’’

‘’Not disappointed?’’

‘’Why would I be disappointed?’’

‘’Many predicted that you’d come in second instead of Russia.’’

Eggsy shrugs. ‘’Nah, I don’t really care. At least we’re not in the bottom three, like usually. And you? No bitter feelings towards Sweden?’’

‘’God, no.’’

‘’I’m glad you didn’t win either,’’ Eggsy blurts out and Harry raises an eyebrow at that. ‘’No, I mean… You deserved to win, but I’m glad you didn’t, because now you’re free to come out with me, hopefully.’’

_Oh_. Eggsy smiles at Harry hopefully and just like in his hotel room on Wednesday, Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no. ‘ _’Mi piacerebbe_ ,’’ he says and laughs at Eggsy’s disbelieving look. ‘’Fucking really, Harry? All this time you’ve spoken English, but now when it matters the most, you decide to be Italian? Fucking really?’’

‘’I’d love to, Eggsy.’’

**

_One year later_

‘’Come on, Harry, it’s almost on!’’ Eggsy shouts from the living room. Harry picks up the tray of snacks and wine and brings it to the room, where Eggsy is curled up on the sofa, ready to begin with their drinking game.

‘’Now, remember, Harry, take a drink every time some one holds a note for more than 4 seconds – ‘’

‘’Yes, Eggsy, I know. I rather think you’re trying to get alcohol poisoning.’’

‘’Shut it, Harry. The only way Eurovision can get more fun than this is when you’re one of the performers.’’

Harry chuckles. ‘’I don’t know, I rather hated last year.’’

‘’Wasn’t all bad, though,’’ Eggsy says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Harry leans in to kiss him. ‘’No. There was this one act. Very handsome singer.’’

Eggsy smiles softly. ‘’Yeah, there was. Sang in a funny language, too.’’

‘ _’Ti amo tanto_ , Eggsy.’’

‘’I love you, too,’’ Eggsy says and settles down. ‘’Now shut it, Graham’s speaking.’’

Oh, yes. Harry definitely loves Eurovision.

 

 

 

 


End file.
